


Sear My Eyes, Gods, How I Wish To Hold You Still

by EineKleineFartmusik



Series: Radiant Reyes [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Radiant Reyes Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EineKleineFartmusik/pseuds/EineKleineFartmusik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a different story about how the sun came to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sear My Eyes, Gods, How I Wish To Hold You Still

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, as with all my Radiant Reyes stuff, Krakenface was there from step one egging me on. There isn't too much violence, but I decided to tag it anyway to be safe. The mythology is very generalized in this fic, but I based a lot of it off of what I know about Norse and Germanic mythology, though some stuff from the Greeks and from Tolkien snuck in there. Genießen Sie bitte.

No one could remember the Sun. Even the immortal gods had forgotten what the warmth of light was. They remembered that there had been a King of Kings and that his reign had been the times of plenty and joy, but no one could remember his face, or his name, or his radiance.

Boyd could not even say he had lost memories of the Sun. He had been but a babe in the womb of his mother when all knowledge of the King of Kings disappeared. But his mother had told him the stories of his glorious reign and how there had never seemed to be a want not answered. His mother had loved the Sun more than most, as she looked over all that once Grew, and without the Sun she was just as lost as the King of Kings was.

And lost she was, in her memories and her long dead wishes; so lost and fading fast before Boyd’s eyes. He watched as the great goddess his mother had been became a withered and dying husk of a being. Boyd knew that the only thing that could help his mother was finding the Sun; and if any god could possibly do that, it was the god of Hunting. Boyd had always known how to track, how to trap, how to find things where no one should have been able to find them. Until now, his skills had seemed pointless, but suddenly they seemed the only thing of importance in the world.

Not knowing particularly where to begin, Boyd sought out the oldest goddesses he had heard of, the mistresses of Time, Fate, and Memory.

“Hail thee, keepers of all that could possibly be. I come before you with offerings of aconite and rose-waters preserved from the times of light. May they serve you some purpose of worth.” Boyd bowed down, kneeling in the only form of supplication he knew.

“The Hunter has come-”

“Though we have waited long for this moment-”

“And yet it seems only yesterday when his birth-fate was revealed-”

“Sisters, would you keep him waiting with your idle chatter?”

As one, all three of the goddesses turned towards him, their eyes glowing pure white in the murky gloom of the world. “We know why you are here. I am afraid we must disappoint you, though. We may be Memory and Fate, but even we can not know something that was not Fated, nor can we Remember something we did not see. The King of Kings was the eternal ruler; he had brought us out of darkness and he was to rule us until all else had faded but his brilliance. His death was not foretold-”

“His death? But I have never heard that he died!” Boyd realized immediately that he had interrupted the most ancient of deities in the world, but the goddesses simply looked on with patience during his outburst.

“Yes, young Hunter. His death. The King of Kings was not just a god. He had become a part of our reality. When he died, he took that part of our existence with him. It is not simply that he has gone. He has ceased to exist.” The other two goddesses had turned back to the scrying pool they sat in front of as the third goddess was speaking. Still facing away, they spoke together. “We can not say where he went after he left our sight, but he had gone to the East at the very end. What else he went through is for only you to know. What is beyond our sight has no place in this world.”

The third goddess continued to stare at Boyd after the others had ended their part in the conversation. Eventually, Boyd bowed once again, leaving his gifts at the goddesses’ feet. As he was leaving, he heard the third goddess whisper almost out of hearing, “Have good luck, Hunter.”

The trek East was both the longest time of his life and the shortest. There was no trail to follow, simply ranges and plains and rivers cutting through the twilight shroud. So he wandered East, seeking the stories and whispers of the King of Kings, so long ago lost. He spoke to the oldest trees at the heart of the forest, and the hills who had once been mountains during the times of light. They all spoke of a wandering star they had felt like a ghost in ages past, yet none of them could say where it had come from or where it went.

Farther and farther Boyd went into the East, leaving behind any land he had ever heard of. The features of the land became by equal parts rougher and less defined. Eventually, it stopped resembling land at all. He could not have said when, but at some point Boyd had come to a place where the space was nothing in that it was everything. It was grass that towered over your head while at the same time being vast stretches of grey plainland. It was at the top of the highest mountain imaginable and in the deepest pit of the lowest valley of the universe.

Boyd had to close his eyes for a while, hoping time would stop the spinning feeling in his head. How had he come here? Was this the place beyond Fate and Memory’s sight? It must have been, he certainly felt no other presence about him.

Well, that was a lie. There was one presence, though it did not feel entirely there. Opening his eyes, Boyd saw in the distance a point where the greyness seemed to just get...darker. There was nothing else to describe it. Regardless, Boyd felt that it was the only thing he could possibly head towards.

He started walking towards it, though he could not say how; he could no longer feel his legs, nor really any of the rest of his body. Boyd imagined the feel of walking towards the dark spot, and as he continued to do so, corporeal feeling returned, but he didn’t seem to get any closer to the distant location. He felt like he was moving forward, but he had no proof he was actually doing it.

Just as Boyd was beginning to give up hope, however, he found himself...there, if there was any other way to say it. There, or here rather, was a stone dais within a henge of menhirs. And on the stone dais was the presence Boyd had felt from such a distance.

A young woman lay on the table, paler than the bone lilies his mother used to show him drawings of. Boyd approached her raised bed and immediately felt the coldness emanating from her. It was almost unbearable; he began to shiver as his heat was drained to appease her obvious lack of warmth. The light about her even appeared to be bending towards her, dimming itself, wanting to go into her somehow.

Now standing by her side, Boyd noticed the shroud over her face, leaving only her golden hair showing, arranged as it was about her head like a nimbus. He also noticed that she held objects in her hands as if they were instruments of devotion or prayer. In her left hand she held a deeply serrated knife of obsidian, while in her right hand she held the distinctly uncleaned pelt of a wolf, the blood having stained her right hand a deep red before it dried to its current black coloring.

Boyd knew instinctively that the only way to bring this woman back from the edge of whatever precipice she was on was to sacrifice a wolf at what he now realized was an altar. He knew that he had to do this, to bring her to life again, but to do so would betray the only family he had aside from his mother.

Derek was his half brother, born to his mother of a father who was just as nameless as Boyd’s. But that was not the concern; no, what was troublesome was Derek’s aegis. Derek was the father of wolves, their protector and nurturer. To kill a wolf, even in the performance of religious duty, would be a sacrilege against his half-brother that would never be forgiven.

But looking at the impossible stillness of this young woman, Boyd realized he had never had a choice. Though it could make his family an enemy, Boyd would sacrifice all the wolves in their world if it meant this woman would speak once more. He was nigh enthralled, unable to even consider the idea of leaving her to this fate of stillness and repose.

And so began his new quest, not even remembering his original purpose to find where the Sun had gone past the edge of Fate’s gaze. Everything had become subservient to this new need to awaken this woman. 

His search took him back to the lands he used to know so well, barely even noticing the spirits he had conversed with before he had reached the regions beyond. He searched relentlessly, using every skill of tracking he possessed to find and capture a wolf that had become separated from its pack. He chained the wolf with ropes of weaved aconite and dragged the wolf back to the dais that radiated a power more ancient than even the goddesses of time.

Immediately upon returning, Boyd placed the wolf at the foot of the altar before going to the woman’s side to retrieve the obsidian knife. After that, it was a simple matter of slitting the wolf’s throat and allowing the blood to drain. As soon as the blood soaked into the stone of the dais, the world about Boyd exploded.

There was a burst of light and heat like nothing he had ever imagined, a brightness that was so sudden and so powerful that it did not stop at taking Boyd’s sight temporarily; no, it stole his eyes forever, leaving him blind to the glories that were happening before him.

And even as he cried out in pain and anguish, Boyd became aware of the immense rush of noise descending like a wall all about him, crushing out his breath and only adding to the levels of his pain.

Through the noise and haze of pain, a voice came to Boyd, clarifying itself within the incomprehensible tumult that had filled the hollow of the altar. The voice swelled with a power not of his world, revealing a strength within the woman that had heretofore been hidden behind a facade of pale, dying flesh.

“I am Erica, daughter of the King of Kings. I am your Sun.”

Boyd heard her speak but did not comprehend for quite some time, trying to push through the residual pain that had come with this woman’s rebirth. Eventually his mind caught up, though, and took in her declaration. He was awed, speechless, ecstatic that he had accomplished what he had set out to do and more, though it was at the cost of his eyes. Boyd had just opened his mouth to finally speak, either in supplication or in prayer, when a howl rent the air and shook the very foundations of their world.

Derek had suffered the possession and sacrificial murder of one of his children, and Boyd knew his time was at last limited. Derek, whom Boyd had hoped would simply choose to disown him, had announced his intentions to the known universe and beyond. The Hunter was now to be hunted; Derek would have revenge for his child.

The father of wolves sent his greatest pack after his former half-brother, intending them to hunt the man down as relentlessly as Boyd had hunted the wolf he took. However, upon reaching the altar where Erica had been so recently catatonic, the wolves were stopped cold by the raw power and beauty of Erica and immediately and intensely desired her for their own. Just as Erica had banished Boyd’s thoughts, so too did the wolves lose themselves in Erica’s image.

The wolves ignored the god of Hunting as they ran by Boyd, only having eyes for the newly reborn Sun.

Realizing her impending captivity, Erica fled before the oncoming wolves. She fled as so many others have fled before the sinister advances of predators. Yet even as she ran, she could not blame them wholly, knowing that she had corrupted these creatures born purely of the night with her radiance. Nor could she stop, however, and so on she ran, ever forward, ever towards a distant horizon, hoping to outdistance the pull of desire.

Boyd was left in the darkness as Erica’s light faded into the distance. He was purposeless; all his being had become what Erica was, and now he could not think to live without her. He sat for a long while, but even as Erica first began running, some part of him knew that there was nothing he could do but follow her. So Boyd began his own trek across the known and unknown parts of the universe.

From that day on, the brothers of the wolf that Boyd had killed howled as Boyd ran past in his pursuit, mourning the loss of family and the end of tranquility, and in the same voice promising that before the end of all ends, there would be retribution that Boyd would pay.

Boyd follows her to this day, always at the mercy of the wolves who run between them. He chases after the only thing he can still see in his mind, this one moment of brilliance that, though it blinded him, made all his previous life an unbearable melancholy. Boyd chases her eternally, and every time Erica passes through the doors of night in the West, her dying rays reflect in the milky white cataracts that are Boyd’s eyes. He will never stop chasing her radiance, as time after time they emerge from the darkness in the East and journey once again across his former world.

Boyd has become the moon as he chases after his Sun.


End file.
